


Signs of Weakness

by theemdash



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e03 Prisoners, First Kiss, Glasses, Infidelity, M/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-29
Updated: 2007-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8834401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theemdash/pseuds/theemdash
Summary: After returning from Handante, Daniel and Jack talk about signs of weakness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** _from zats_clear_ Jack/Daniel, "Prisoners," missing/expanded scene, power  
>  085\. She - 085. She  
> written for stargatefic100

He doesn't know what drags him there, but something does, his extrasensory-Jack perception is maybe what draws him to the Colonel's door. Of course the surly "What" Jack uses as a greeting makes him regret that he gave in to his compulsion.

"Hi." Daniel affects a smile, taking the slight gap between Jack's body and the door as an invitation to push his way in.

Jack cocks an eyebrow and shuts the door behind Daniel before entering the living room, settling back on the couch, and picking up his beer. The beer dangles from his fingers as he points to the kitchen. "Get a beer. Sit."

Daniel does what he says, thinking that one day he's going to tell Jack that the beer he buys is shit.

"So. . . ."

Daniel sets down the beer, turns to Jack, and takes off his glasses. He tucks them in his pocket, the same way Jack did on Handante, and doesn't know what to say.

Somehow, though, Jack knows where this is headed.

"You know I was captured in Iraq."

Daniel nods, leaning forward, his long bangs brushing against his temples.

"Well." Jack salutes with his bottle before taking a swig, like his statement explains everything. Like Daniel has asked a question, or knows what Jack is thinking, or just . . . like that explains everything.

Daniel flops back on the couch with a huff, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

"You're like a child sometimes, you know that?" Jack says.

" _You're_ like a child sometimes."

Jack grins a smile that slowly stretches from Jack's face across to Daniel's face. A moment later and they're both laughing, at each other, at themselves, at their lives. Still smiling, Daniel finally takes a drink of his beer, allowing the liquid to sober his laugh.

"Why do you always protect me?"

"It's my job." There's a smile on his face when Jack says it, but it sounds canned.

Daniel shakes his head. "I know the difference. What you do, it isn't just about the job."

Jack shrugs, hiding behind his beer bottle again.

Daniel pulls his glasses out of his pocket, opens them up, but instead of putting them on, he leans over, sliding the arms over Jack's ears, pushing the bridge firmly on to Jack's nose. Jack blinks behind the lenses, his mouth hanging open from an aborted sip.

"Is that really a sign of weakness?"

Jack pushes up, bringing their faces even closer together. "Don't." It's part warning, part command, but nothing that prevents Daniel from leaning forward, closing the gap, placing his lips on Jack's lips.

Just this once, he thinks, just this once.

He pushes his tongue into Jack's mouth, his stomach fluttering when he feels Jack's tongue flick against his. The edge of his glasses cut into his face from the wrong side and he doesn't know who he is any more, how he got here, why he isn't always here.

He climbs on Jack, barely remembering to set down Jack's beer, pushing until they're spread out on the couch, pressing together, and Daniel knows he's not the only one that's hard from this.

But when Jack's head hits the cushion, it's like something turns off, and he pulls back, licking his lips and turning his face.

"Daniel, we can't do this," he whispers.

"Why not?"

Jack's eyes are so wide behind Daniel's glasses that Daniel can see into them, see the desire, the fear, the name of the woman neither one of them want to say, the wife that keeps them apart.

"Oh." Daniel sits back, the guilt rising fast in his throat.

"We've been sidetracked, I know, so it's taking longer than you thought, but I won't be responsible for . . . this." Jack rolls, pulling the glasses off his face, handing them back to Daniel without looking at him. "I told you they were a sign of weakness."

Daniel slips his glasses on, slowly pressing his lips together, already missing the warmth that came with reckless abandon.

"Maybe you should go."

Jack picks up both of their bottles and heads to the kitchen. Daniel hears the sink running and the tinkle of over turned bottles, and imagines the suds as the remains of their beers swirl down the drain.

It's that same something that dragged him to Jack's door that leads him into the kitchen. That something that causes him to wrap his arms around Jack's waist, and bury his nose in the back of Jack's neck, inhaling the sweat and salt. That something that feels like inevitability that allows him to push away his guilt and say what he came here to say.

He kisses Jack's neck, closed mouth and chaste, and says, "I don't think I'm going to leave." 

When Jack turns, Daniel knows Jack can see into his eyes and see the desire, the fear, the name of the woman neither one of them want to say, but Jack's hands fist in Daniel's shirt anyway. Giving into weakness, Daniel stays.


End file.
